Learning to be a better mother because of infertility

For a solid year, I was just seconds away from the deepest feelings of despair, teary sadness, anger at the cruelty of this unfairness, inadequacy as a woman, shame that apparently something was wrong with my body and fear that I never would get pregnant.

During my first year of infertility, I remember feeling sad about my life when I heard other friends were pregnant.

We're talking, "Hmmm, maybe I'll cut out of this party early because I can't hide these tears any longer. No thank you, I'll just sit this 35th baby shower out. Don't you dare hand me a flower at church to carry around on Mother's Day because I am already seconds away from busting out of this building early."

For a solid year, I was just seconds away from the deepest feelings of despair, teary sadness, anger at the cruelty of this unfairness, inadequacy as a woman, shame that apparently something was wrong with my body, fear that I never would get pregnant, resentment that I was being left outside the circle of mothers, and worry that somehow my life was not going to be worth anything if I couldn't get pregnant and have a family.

What a sad way to live! It was sad. Very.

Luckily, years two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight and nine of infertility have been a completely different experience. It has been a miracle.

I started learning that if I didn't change my overall perspective on trials, even if I did get pregnant, I would still be prone to hanging by a thread. Because even with a baby in tow, inevitably there would be many other things that wouldn't go my way. It's not like all of life's trials would be dissolved by having a baby.

So I started to see the scary reality that if I chose to continue living in this way (basing my happiness on perfect circumstances), I could easily live and die and only have small glimpses of happiness, only when things happened to be lined up perfectly. Even worse, I would be teaching my children how to live this way as well. The thought of that made my skin crawl. I realized that was not the kind of life I wanted, nor was it the kind of woman or mother I wanted to be. And so, year two I changed my ways. I changed the way I thought about my trials. I did it for my unborn children, so I could truly teach how to overcome their trials, too. And I haven't looked back since.

And one of the greatest side effects of choosing to be happy?

I don't feel the tendency to compare my life with others' anymore. My life is what it is —and it is beautiful and full of purpose. I now get to enjoy being around my friends who are all mothers. I get to enjoy celebrating the beauty of motherhood with everyone on Mother's Day. I get to truly be happy and overjoyed every time I see a little baby. And I am thrilled each and every time I hear of a friend or sister or cousin or neighbor who is pregnant. And I am amazed at the miracle of a birth every time I hear that a new little one has arrived to this beautiful life safe and sound.

Babies are miracles. Getting pregnant is a miracle. Birth is a miracle. Creating a family is a miracle. What a shame that hearing of these things used to make me sad and cause me pain. They're the most beautiful things that ever happen in this life. What a privilege it is to see it unfold and to be a part of it in many ways, even if I am not yet a mother.

Popular Comments

Thank you for your beautiful article. It is such good advice, and such a great
perspective! Truly, thank you.

9:30 a.m. May 7, 2013

Top comment

crawfordzoo

Barstow, CA

After 25 years and 3 adoptions I am still working on it. This article gave me
hope. Thank you!

11:04 a.m. May 7, 2013

Top comment

ijw

Holladay, UT

I have read some of the other articles about Mother's Day in the DN, but
this is my favorite. Thank you DN for printing it. Mara you have shown such
great wisdom as we all end up with challenges in life but can be happier looking
for the good.
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